


Na rathadan an t-samhraidh

by uumuu



Series: Linn Ùr [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Father/Son Incest, Feanorian OT8, Gen, M/M, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: The Fëanorians search for a new home and explore new areas of Middle-Earth.





	Na rathadan an t-samhraidh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



> Again, old fic with minor revisions. Written and gifted as an Exchange treat, just not posted here on AO3 until now.
> 
> As all other fics in this series, this one too can be read on its own.
> 
> Best read with a map, this one https://enerdhil-of-gondolin.deviantart.com/art/Merged-map-of-Middle-Earth-490536261 has a nice merging of Beleriand and the rest of Middle Earth (beware of maps where Beleriand is too big).

“A mountain?” Amrod said out loud, his voice an echo of his twin's whisper in his head. 

Without meaning to, he dipped his hand in the water, staring half-unseeing at the centre of the river, whose surface was still and clear as polished glass, and mirrored the cloudy sky to perfection.

«A tall, solitary mountain, rising from the plain all at once, as if someone dropped a humongous cutting of rock there by mistake,» Amras went on, and Amrod turned the landscape his twin's words evoked into an image – itself almost a reflection – that danced on the water, then closed his eyes. Amras's presence glowed warm and vivid inside his head, wrapped around him like an embrace, and he could see in his mind's eye Amras crouched in a position very similar to his own. He focused on the link between their consciousness, and for a brief moment he was able to see what his twin saw. 

«Where are you?» Amras asked, while the scenery dissolved like thin smoke.

“The river Celduin veers east. We've been told it grows even bigger further on where a second river from the north melds with it. We are close to where they meet. Together, they flow into a large lake,” Amrod said, pausing to let his twin absorb his words. “According to the Quendi who live along the river, that lake is what's left of the large sea whose eastern shores were called Cuiviénen.”

«It dried up?»

“It shrunk, yes. Nobody knows why exactly, but it has to do with the sun, very likely.”

«Interesting. There might be plenty of uninhabited land over there.»

“Yes, there might be.”

With the war won, they had all agreed to move out of Beleriand, but finding a new place to settle was proving harder than they initially thought. 

They crossed the Blue Mountains, and explored the land beyond them, finding it inhabited by several groups of Green Elves and dotted with towns and villages of Men, including the Men who had fled Beleriand before Fëanor's ingenuity and everybody else's perseverance had toppled Morgoth and trapped him in the ice at the northernmost edge of the world, in a lasting manner if not an eternal one. 

The Misty Mountains rose before them next, like great gates guarding the lands further east. The Nelyar who had refused to cross them on the march to Valinor had settled at the foot of the mountains and in a large forest stretching wide beyond them, and called themselves Silvans. 

The Silvans were even more jealous of their peace than their distant relations in Beleriand, and the Fëanorians saw little of them while they crossed the Greenwood, following the road that cut through the forest until it ended on the banks of a river flowing from north to south on the other side of it, which the locals called the Celduin. 

Fëanor, Amras and Caranthir chose to head north, whereas Maedhros, Celegorm, Curufin, Maglor and Amrod went south.

“We will reach the lake, then start on the way back. Curvo is trying to draw a map, based on what we've seen and what we've been told so far. What do you intend to do?”

«There are caves and tunnels in the side of the mountain, some appearing to be very large. Father wants to explore them and maybe look for ores.»

“What about plants?”

«There are no trees here. Just shrubs and common wildflowers. I will collect anything interesting I find, if I find it, and bring it to you.»

“I'll do the same. Be careful in the caves.”

«We will. You take care, too.»

“Of course,” Amrod smiled and kissed his hand. After he had received his brother's kiss in return, he quieted down the mind-link he shared with him, as a brother and as a lover. Even after it hushed it left behind a warm, tingly sensation that filled him down to the tips of his fingers. He shook himself from his trance-like state, curling his hands to keep that warmth for as long as possible.

Curufin put a hand on his shoulder when he looked up. “How are they?”

“Fine. They've reached a solitary mountain. Father is going to look for ores, obviously, but from what Amras has told me it doesn't sound like a place fit to make a good home.”

“Then they should come back down and join us,” Maedhros grumbled. Amrod gazed at his hair, incandescent in the fading sun, near-identical to his and Amras's. He stood up, and Maedhros swept him into a heated kiss. 

*

Amras came back to his surroundings to the sound of a loud moan. 

Caranthir had been massaging their father's back when he had last seen them, before focusing all of his attention on bridging the physical distance between him and his twin. Now Fëanor had his shirt back on, but Caranthir knelt between his naked legs, and a strong scent of lavender wafted up in the air.

“They are all right, aren't they?” Fëanor asked, lazily stroking his own half-hard cock while Caranthir lubed and stretched him. 

Amras didn't immediately reply, climbed to his feet instead and stretched his legs. It wasn't hard to infer that nothing was amiss with his brothers from his end of the conversation, or Caranthir and Fëanor wouldn't have calmly eaten dinner and wouldn't be getting ready to fuck. 

“Of course,” he said a little crossly, walking over to where a patch of thick grass made for a nice sitting spot. 

As if he had been waiting for him to say that, Caranthir pulled his fingers out of their father's ass, and slid closer to him, grabbing his legs and lifting them up. His cock jutted out from his pants, already fully hard and glistening with the oil they always kept in their baggage. Fëanor reached for the thick, heavy shaft, smiling as he guided it to his opening. 

Amras didn't look, but heard the rustle of Caranthir's clothing, the slick squelching sound and Fëanor's groan when he was breached. Huffing he picked up the bundle that had been left open for him to eat his ration of coimas. 

They hadn't come across any living creature larger than a rabbit for days, and the occasional small animal did little to enliven the desolation of the land. Amras gazed out at the moors again, spread out at their feet with the Celduin coiling through them like a wayward ribbon and the Greenwood far down in the background like a miniature garden. 

It was incautious to be having sex in a place such as this. Even if the dangers of Beleriand were behind them now, they couldn't be sure none lurked elsewhere. And breaking from a habit of constant wariness was easier said than done. Maedhros grew sullen whenever they decided to separate in order to explore, and Celegorm would still at times spend his nights watching over them instead of taking his rest.

Amras popped the last bit of coimas into his mouth, and unscreened a small lamp provide a sliver of light to move by while not being too conspicuous in the gathering gloom. 

Perhaps he just missed his brothers, and that made him edgier than he had reason to be. The war had gone as well as they wished, and much much better than they had dared to hope. 

Perhaps it was the atmosphere of this night, with the stars beginning to show in a grey sky and the moon nowhere to be seen, reminding him of days spent far from the light of the trees in the unblessed wastes of Valinor. If his twin and his brothers had been there with them, around a blazing campfire, he would have been one step closer to the mournful gates of memory, beyond which his grandfather was still alive and the world outside of Valinor was just a vast unknown land for them to build fantasies upon. 

He dared not cross the threshold to those days. 

He just had to look at the deep scar on Caranthir's right arm and the lines of care on their father's face to be pulled away from it. 

Dusting his shirt of any crumbs, he scooted over to join his father and brother on their bedding, and gently laid a hand on Fëanor's chest. Fëanor turned to look up at him, a smile on his lips and so much love in his eyes that all of Amras's irritation disappeared in an instant. 

That one look was the most precious thing Amras had, and he would preserve it, protect it even at the cost of destroying the world, if necessary. He could resist the lure of memories because his father's loving gaze had not become a memory. 

None of them had truly understood the harrowing fear of losing a loved one until they saw their father battle the lure of death for long, excruciating months. Finwë had died quickly and unexpectedly. Fëanor looked like he could slip from their hands at any moment after Finwë's death, even before the balrogs' attack. The echo of that fear threatened to bring tears to his eyes, so Amras quickly bent for a kiss to hide it. Then he turned to Caranthir, drinking in the passion and unbridled abandon with which he fucked their father. 

“Telvo,” Caranthir gasped, his cheeks glowing, his hips moving vigorously back and forth. 

Amras bent towards him, murmuring the endearments that he knew excited Caranthir the most. Caranthir did the same, and they met in messy kiss, their lips crashing together then slipping over one another before Amras managed to shove his tongue inside his panting brother's mouth, and again breaking into nips and licks. 

“Do you –...want to take father too?”

Amras was tempted to, as he felt Fëanor's chest rise and fall and ripple under his hand, but declined. “Not today,” he whispered and pulled back from Caranthir's lips. 

He drew his hand up and down Fëanor's chest a few times, and stopped on his left nipple. He pinched the already hard nub through his shirt, rubbing the thin linen against it. Fëanor bit his lower lip, a shiver rocking his shoulders. His hand fell from his cock and landed limply at his side. His whole body went slack, entrusted to his sons' caresses. 

Caranthir gladly took advantage of that to spread his legs even wider apart and thrust deeper and deeper inside him. 

Amras slipped his hand under his shirt, and resumed teasing his nipple. Soon he stopped being aware of the dampness of that late summer night, of the unfamiliar landscape and its peculiar stillness, immersing himself in the sounds and smells that belonged to his every time and every place – the squelching of Caranthir's thrusts, his ragged breathing, Fëanor's sweet sweet moans, the smell of sweat rising from their bodies, the exertion of sex mixing with the exertion of the road. His brother and father's pleasure could have been his own, and he started to palm and lightly squeeze the erection now tenting his pants. 

“Let me take care of that,” Fëanor said after a time, and nodded to Caranthir.

Caranthir didn't stop, but slowed down enough to allow Fëanor to roll on his side. Fëanor's neglected cock was wet at the tip, and precome dropped on his thigh and on the bedding in long translucent strands. Caranthir kept on holding onto his right leg, but followed his movement and adjusted his angle of penetration accordingly. 

Amras freed his cock and brought it to his father's mouth. Fëanor locked his lips around him, sucked gently on his cockhead, then leant forward, gliding along his length, straining to get as much of him into his mouth as possible. 

“Pityo says the Celduin ends in a lake which used to be part of a much larger inland sea, the one whose eastern shore was known as Cuiviénen,” Amras said haltingly. He was even more aroused than he had realised, and felt like he could come at any second. He put a hand on the back of his father's head, trying to concentrate on massaging it, to distract himself. 

Fëanor pulled off of his cock with a smack of his lips, but kissed his now-leaking slit before asking, “we're so close already?”

“A- apparently.”

“Then,” Caranthir mumbled, dreamily, in between raining kisses on Fëanor's leg, “we must be...close to the hills where the Dwarves are, the ones the folks in Cassarrondo mentioned.” 

Amras nodded, unconsciously moving back and forth inside his father's mouth, stopping just short of breaching his throat. “And...there might be plenty of land that is new and...uninhabited.” 

Fëanor hummed his assent around his cock. He craned his neck, and let it slide into his throat, held it there for a moment, then slowly drew back and started gliding his lips up and down the sides of Amras's length, murmuring his next words against his skin. “I definitely want to see the lake for myself, and whatever might be beyond it.”

“I'm sure Nelyo will be...thrilled if we join him and the others again.”

“He would all right,” Fëanor said with a wicked light in his eyes, before brushing his lips all over the head of Amras's cock and locking them around him again. 

Both Amras and Caranthir came inside their father – Amras spurting jet after jet of seed in his mouth which Fëanor greedily gobbled up while Caranthir lodged his deep in his ass, knowing that his father would hold it there. 

Amras mouthed Fëanor's cock to have his seed in turn. He gathered the precious release in his mouth, but didn't swallow it. Caranthir quickly smashed his lips on his so that they could share it – the essence from which they were born, which made them who they were, an indissoluble link. They swapped it back and forth, the pearly fluid mixing with their spit. It covered their lips, and dribbled down their chins, but they licked each other clean of every stray drop.

*

“Pityo,” Maedhros said with exasperation, “can't we just hurry on to the lake? So we can see the damn place and start on our way back to meet with the others. I want to be where the Celduin and the Carnen meet before them.”

“Calm down, Nelyo, we'll get there in due time,” Amrod replied, calmly lacing up his boots again after stopping for lunch, with Maglor strumming a tune on his travelling lute to his right and Celegorm cleaning one of his knives on his left. 

Maedhros grunted. He was considering setting off anyway, so as to force his brothers to follow him, when a very faint sound of splashing come from the otherwise peaceful waters. Curufin was the first to turn towards the large bend in the great river and the trees which shielded it to see what the source of the disturbance was.

“Father,” he said, standing up, his voice rising with surprise.

Maedhros was up behind him in an instant. 

The others followed – Amrod with a pleased grin, Celegorm barely able to restrain his laughter as he made out exactly how his father and brothers were approaching. 

Caranthir, Amras and Fëanor sailed down the middle river in a boat that seemed way to small too hold the three of them.

Maedhros started walking back and forth, his impatience leaving a furrow on the grass, but when they had drawn close enough he couldn't wait any more and walked into the river on impulse.

“Sailaki!” Maglor shouted after him. 

“I don't think we'll see the lake tomorrow! Or the day after tomorrow, or the next day now that you've gotten all wet!” Amrod jested.

Maedhros stopped with the water reaching his thighs, but didn't regret getting wet when Fëanor hopped off the boat and waded in the water towards him. 

“Sailaki?” was all he managed to say before Maedhros squeezed all breath out of him with his arms and choked him with his mouth.

“It's a new nickname Nelyo got from a tribe we met a few days ago. 'Sailagia kinnid' – red hair, Sailaki in short,” Maglor answered from the riverbank, still holding his lute in his right hand.

“That sounds...quite...interesting,” Fëanor when he could breathe again. 

“Many tribes have really quaint dialects in these parts, they strayed quite far from common Quenya, especially where vocabulary is concerned. I wonder if the presence of so many travelling Dwarven merchants and humans moving in the area –”

“Cáno, cut it out,” Maedhros brusquely said, all but lifting their father out of the water. 

Caranthir and Amras dragged the boat to the shore, and onto the grassy bank where they turned it upside down. They too got a little wet in the process, but that didn't stop their brothers from kissing and hugging them, until they were all sitting around the embers of their campfire.

**Author's Note:**

> The lake is the Sea of Rhun and the mountain is the Lonely Mountain.


End file.
